Far Deeper Than Skin
by Seroci
Summary: HP/LOTR. What's on the outside isn't always what's on the inside, as an Elf prince named Legolas Greenleaf and a Quidditch Keeper named Oliver Wood discover...
1. Revenge

A/N: A crossover that's probably been done before. *nods* Yes, LOTR and HP crossovers have been done before. So I'm not the first. I'm probably not the first to do something like this either. But I gave it a shot, let's see what you think. 

HP timeline: Oliver's seventh year.   
LOTR timeline: After the Lord Of The Rings. Descendents of Orc warriors slain seek revenge (my own plot) 

Oliver Wood (etc.) is the property of Rowling. Legolas (etc.) is the property of Tolkien. Only the plot after LOTR is mine. Oh, and a few original characters. ^_^0   


  


**~Far Deeper Than Skin~**

****LEGOLAS****

This was a peace that closed my eyes, almost put me into what Humans called "sleep." The willow I was perched on sang silent whispers through her slender leaves. Her large, knotted limbs protected me from a sheet of rain that thundered outside. I could just see the drops through the willow's branches. They consumed every part of Rivendell. Every part but me. 

I sighed contentedly, removed my pack of arrows from my back. It felt good to be back with my own kind, back in my own land. I let the bag drop to the ground, send a small puddle of mud into a pathetic explosion. There had been enough war in my heart, I no longer needed my weapons. 

Outside the thick wood I could hear festive laugher, small lights danced in the gloom of the rain. I could almost hear Gimli's bass laugh, followed closely what I knew to be Elrond's. I smiled. Elrond had never laughed in his life, or in the two thousand years I had known him. Perhaps there was laughter before, but none in my lifetime. 

I closed my eyes. I knew it was almost uncivilized for an Elf to fall to a Human level of rest, but I had to admit that it felt good. I was still young, yes, but it many ways my body had aged faster than any Elf. I hurt to my bones, and the rough surface of my willow soothed the cramps I hadn't been able to shake off since the Fellowship began. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I began to feel relaxed. 

A subtle thump opened my eyes. The willow had stopped her singing, yet the rejoicing in the city continued. I allowed my ears to prick forward, let my eyes scan over what I could see beyond the willow's leaves. The willow moved her branches, her slender arms, parted, poured in a sheet of cold rain. Shocked, I leapt to my feet, nimbly took to a higher branch. With a soaked sleeve I brushed the water from my face. 

The wind began to howl, the willow moved her leaves aside again, pelted me. I took to branch after branch, shivering. The willow began to speak, slowly, softly. 

_" Young one...."_

Her whisper echoed softly in the wood. 

_" Open are my doors. Flee, flee from Rivendell...."_

She let the rain fall on me. 

_" They will find you, they will seek you....."_

" Who?" I sputtered, wiping my face again. 

_" They are already here. Run, run my child!"_

With a sudden gust of wind, she pushed me from her branches. I tumbled in the air, twisted to regain my balance, reached out for the next tree. The willow's urgent whispers echoed behind me. 

_" Run! They cannot catch you! Run!"_

I jumped to the ground, began to sprint. The wind ran with me, the willow's wind. Her voice was lost before long as her wind guided me through bushes. As my breathing quickened, I made to silence it, fell into the Elf I was. My footsteps became lighter, I left not a footprint behind, not a bend grass blade or crumpled leaf. The bushes refused to rustle as I passed. 

_" You're not safe."_

I looked towards a wise, old maple. His leaves were waving in the same breeze that was guiding me. 

_" She speaks true. You are no longer safe."_

" Nay!" I whispered under my breath. But in my heart, deep in my heart, I knew they spoke the truth. The trees of Rivendell never lied. 

An arrow sliced the air just in front of my eyes. I barely ducked it, fell to the ground in a rough, unplanned roll, then took to my feet. I murmered prays beneath my breath as another arrow flew behind me. I could hear breath, loud breath, in my ears. And it wasn't the trees' breath. 

I jumped over another flying air, ducked a low-hanging branch. Anxiety caught up with me, made me clumsy, and though I saw the arrow, saw it plain and clear, it hit me. The shoulder, it dug into my shoulder. The sudden pain sent me reeling, my step faltered. My arm grew hot, the blood drenched the sleeve of my outfit. My uniform. My warrior uniform. 

Another arrow hit me, from the front, dug into my stomach. I stopped as the point pierced me, ripped me. My breath was gone from me in an instant. I choked, struggled to breathe. My knees shook, a hot, seering pain took my stomach, grabbed my chest. I could feel my heart twisting under the sudden agony. Choking in one breath, one breath, I sank to my knees. Swallow after swallow shook me. Another breath took my body over. Exhale, I couldn't exhale. 

" Elf," a voice sneered. " Elf prince, Elf warrior." The voice was followed by a deep, roaring laughter. 

I swallowed again, brought my hands to my stomach. Thick blood coated my fingers in seconds. I had never seen my own blood in my life. 

" Son of Thranduil, so easy to catch." A hot breath reached my neck. " Do you know what it's like to die, Legolas?" 

My name, he knew my name. Breath was slowly running back into me, ragged gasps, long silences of eternity and pain interupting each swallow for air. I shook helplessly. 

The voice laughed again. " I can't believe it's done. Do you know how long I've been looking for you, Son of Thranduil?" The laughter disappeared suddenly and a foot connected with my stomach. I tried to grunt as I doubled over, the breath I had worked to gain gone. The world around me, dark blue, began to swirl. I could just feel the wind through my long hair. " Had you known that it was you who killed my father? Had you known what it was like for me to hear he was never going to return to me, because of an Elven prince named Legolas?" The foot caught my stomach again. I collapsed on my side, curled into a ball around the arrow in me.   
" Do you know what it's like to have a father taken from you, Son of Thranduil? No, no you didn't." A rough hand grabbed my hair, lifted my head. I was looking at a fowl Orc's face, covered in blood and sweat over what could have been a graceful Elf. " But now you do." 

Realization took me, almost choked the life out of me more efficiently than the Orc's beatings. My father.....Thranduil..... 

I found it in me to yell. " You lie!" I screamed. The pain in my chest tightened and I gasped sharply. 

The Orc laughed, tightened his grip on my hair, then pulled me to my feet. Grimacing in pain, I obeyed him. He did not release me when I finally stood, though. Only grinned at me with a mouth lacking many teeth, teeth replaced by insects I had never seen. 

" Thranduil, in his old age....he was so easy." The smile on the Orc's face reached his eyes. He was proud. " But you want to know something? I found my revenge didn't quench my thirst. You have torn me deeply, and the only thing that can make me happy is to watch you suffer." He laughed, brought his fist to my cheekbone. I felt my cheekbone shatter on contact and I dropped to the ground. The Orc let me fall, let go of my hair. 

" Suffer now, Legolas, Son of Thranduil, and I shall be forever at peace." He roared, brought his foot into my stomach again. 

The world around me dimmed quickly, darkness overtook my eyes. A small trickle of blood entered my eye, stung with rain water. I couldn't see. 

" Please," I whispered. With ever word I uttered, my chest knotted more. " Father....stop...please..." Blood filled my mouth, it ran freely down my face now. The pain in my chest burned, my heart struggled to beat through it. " Please!" 

Everything went black.   
  


A/N: This chapter is utterly short, and the next with be probably just as short. These are only the openings! I will be writing longer, more intense chapters! ^_^ Promise. 


	2. The Changes

A/N: All right, now it's Oliver's turn. I didn't do something quite so brutal to him (I had an excuse to nearly kill Legolas, but I don't have one for Oliver) so that should make some Oliver fans happy. What happens to Oliver is not totally understandable, because Oliver doesn't know what it is. Legolas knows, though, and it will all be explained in good time. 

All right, I know Legolas isn't from Rivendell, he's the prince of Mirkwood. Or....I guess King, now, because I killed Thranduil with the Orc, who has no name. He comes to be known as Serke, the Quenya Elven word for blood. Nice name, no no? He doesn't answer to it, he's never called by name, but that's how we'll know him.   


**~Far Deeper Than Skin~**   
****

  
****

****OLIVER****   


_" Father.....stop....please...."___

My temples throbbed with a headache I had just come to ignore. It had plagued me on and off since early morning, and now, it grew to an intense size. I closed my eyes as the world around me, fifty feet in the air, began to lose its focus. Angelina, my darling Angelina, hovered only a hundred feet in front of me, back to me, the Quaffle dancing between her and the other Chasers. She did not see me as I allowed my broom to drop slowly, my hand now reaching to massage the bridge of my nose. 

_" Please!"___

The headache had been with me since early morning, but the voice in me just began. My mind knew that it was crazy for me to be hearing voices, yet my heart found the strength to disagree. There was someone, I didn't know where, but there was someone just the same. He was calling to me with desperate pleas, pleas I had heard when I was a young boy, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked my tiny village in Scotland. My brother was lost to him, and I heard him that night cry with the same pleas this voice was carrying. 

" Oliver?" 

My feet touched the ground and I swayed a moment, quickly steadied by two firm hands. I opened my eyes slowly, let them fall on the blurred face of George Weasley. It was he who steadied me, led me off the pitch, to the locker rooms. 

" You're not lookin' so hot," he told me as he sat me on a bench. 

I shook my head and let myself fall into a weary slump. " It's just a headache." 

George placed his hand on my forehead, then my cheeks, then the back of my neck. " I'm no doctor," he said, " but you're burning. Wait here." He left me, ran out onto the pitch, his scarlet robes trailing him like a shadow. A scarlet shadow. 

I wrapped my own robes around me, suddenly cold. 

_" Please!"___

The voice wouldn't leave me. Every time it spoke, the pain grew worse. The locker room began to change forms, lockers twisting into trees, the bench a stretcher fashioned out of wood and leather. There was something cold running down my face, cold and thick. It entered my mouth in as a calm stream, and I struggled to spit it out. It was blood, it was my blood. 

" Oliver?" This was Angelina. 

I shook my head and there she was, bending over to be eye level with me. Her hand caressed my face softly, but her hand came away clean. No blood. 

" But..." I stammered. I had felt it, I tasted it, there was blood on my face! Why did it not cover her fingers, then, when she ran them right through its path? 

" Fred, George, can you carry him?" she asked over her shoulder. 

" Light as a feather," Fred answered. Or maybe it was George, who knew? 

_" Please!"___

The throbbing coursed through me again, shook my hands. I closed my eyes tightly and a cold wind surrounded me, made me shiver. I tried to bring my robes closer to my body when I found I couldn't move my arms. My shoulder burned, and I looked at it slowly, found the green cloth around it to be soaked with blood, blood the rain was washing away. 

But I wasn't wearing a green shirt! I was at Quidditch practice, in my scarlet robes! I was on a bench with Angelina watching me, not on my back and bound to a crued stretcher! 

" He's awake," a melodic voice whispered. 

My eyes wandered upward to see a delicate face, clean and undisturbed by the rain. Two blue eyes watched me closely. 

" Tell me, what happened?" the person asked. 

A hand took him by the shoulder. This man was taller, his hair dark and loose, just barely concealing a pointed ear. " He has just awoken, and he's not even out of the wood. Ask him when he has an answer." 

The first man bowed and stepped away, as my stretcher was carried forward. " Yes, my lord." 

I closed my eyes again. 

" Oliver?" 

Opened them to see Fred and George at my sides. 

" We can't carry you up here alone, Wood," George panted. " Can you manage a walk up the stairs?" 

" I...I'll try...." My voice was weak but I could plainly hear a difference in it. The Scottish accent I was born with had been replaced by a mild English one, and I found it to be as melodioc as the voice that belonged to the two men in the rain. The two men with the pointed ears. 

Fred and George, though, seemed to find no difference, and only helped me to make my way up the stairs to the castle doors. I let myself fall into their strong arms against my will, growing steadily weaker. 

_" Please!"___

That voice echoed in my head again and again, I couldn't get it to leave. 

" Stop!" I screamed. The Scottish accent was back, my voice suddenly hoarse. 

" The prince has asked to stop!" a flowing voice barked. Instantly, the stretcher I was strapped to came to a halt. The rain poured over me, soon blocked out by the dark haired man with pointed ears. " Does something bother you?" 

I took in a deep breath, tried to gasp at the sudden pain that took hold of me. " Where...." It came out as a feeble gasp and I inhaled to try again. " Where....am I?" 

The man sighed heavily and pushed aside a strand of my hair. " It's all right, Legolas, you're going to be taken care of." 

Legolas? I was Oliver Wood! 

" My name...." I whispered weakly. 

The man looked away, looked to the men who carried my stretcher. " He's delirious! Get him to the palace! I'll send for his father!" 

The palace? Surely that was Hogwarts, and I wasn't I already there? 

" Oh dear sweet mother of Jesus," an old woman's voice gasped. " What happened?" 

" We don't know," Fred answered breathlessly. 

" He almost fell from his broom," his twin answered. 

I opened weak eyes to see Madame Pomphrey leaning over me, wiping my face with a white cloth. Wiping away the blood that appeared from nowhere? She had to be, yet when she withdrew the cloth, it was clean. 

" Get me some ice, he's started to sweat!" she ordered. There was a few more moments of her wiping my forehead, then something cold touched my face. Madame Pomphrey took some ice from the small pack that had been placed on me, rubbed it around my face, my neck. " He's slipping into a fever. Weasley! Get Dumbledor!" 

There was silence. 

" Fred Weasley!" Madame Pomphrey barked. She reached out and took a hand. " George, keep the ice on him. Move it around. I'm going to Professor Snape to get an antidote that should reduce the fever." 

" George," I muttered as soon as the nurse left the room. " George, what's happening?" 

_" Please!"___

He put a new piece of ice to my cheek. " It's all right, Wood." 

" No." I struggled to sit up, he pushed me down. 

" Put more restraints on." This voice was hoarse. I felt two ropes the size width of my arm come over me. They pressed against me, pushed me to the leather I lay on. 

" He's lost a lot of blood, Lord Elrond," a more soothing voice said. I couldn't see its owner. 

A delicate hand ran over my brow, came away with crimson blood. " Clean and dress the wounds. Keep him under the finest care. There will always be an Elf at his bedside." 

An Elf? 

" George!" I tried to yell. It came out as a pathetic whisper. 

A hand grabbed mine, held it tight.   
  
" I'm right here, Oliver," came George's familiar voice. 

" George....voices....help....." 

" Dumbledor's coming, and Snape's going to find a cure." More ice ran over my forehead. " It'll be okay, Oliver." 

I sighed heavily, felt my breath begin to cease. Rain droned out every other sound, save distant voices. 

" I was unable to reach his father." 

" Do not fear the worst. Legolas is not yet dead and Thranduil could still be alive." 

" I am not sure, Lord Elrond." 

" Stay by Legolas's side." 

" Lord Elrond?" 

" Gimli. What do you want?" 

" I was wondering, good lord, if I could stay by Legolas's bed. He is my one friend." 

" Very well, then. Stay by his side. Elgaron, come with me. I want you to summon the best healers in Middle Earth to Rivendell. We will not lose Legolas."   
  
  


A/N: Okay, so it was kinda of confusing. Considering you know what happened to Legolas, and what I've given you hear, it might be somewhat easy to figure out what happened. It will be explained by Legolas in the future, so if you're confused, don't fret. It will all be explained. Please be kind and leave a review? 


	3. Loving Two

A/N: I'm continuing. So many reviews popped up and you've all been soooo nice! *sob* So, though I may not be satisfied with this story, here it is for you guys. You deserve it! 

**DEDICATED TO:** All reviewers. THANK YOU!! 

Oh, here Legolas begins to explain what happened to Oliver. So some confusion will be allayed.   
  
  
  


**~Far Deeper Than Skin~**

  
  
  
  


****LEGOLAS****   


A cool hand ran over my forehead in a soft caress, followed closely by a cool liquid. Water. I slowly tried to shift my weight. Where was I? Who had I taken? With one fluid movemet, or what I meant to be fluid, I reached up with one hand and took hold of the wrist that pressed itself to my brow. 

" He's awake," a voice, almost crued, rasped. The hand left my forehead. 

There was a distant rustling, a new weight on whatever surface I lay upon. 

" How long?" This was a woman's voice. 

" Just now." A cool cloth was placed on my forehead, tiny beads of cold water slipped beneath my eyelids. I flinched as water made contact with my eyes, an action that led to the opening of my eyes. 

A dark haired man was watching me, and he made eye contact with me. In an instant his look of almost relief was replaced by suspicion. 

My first instincts told me to ask where I was, but I kept silent. The questions ran through my mind in riddles, and I lay patiently for those who were with me to answer them for me. 

" Will he be back on the pitch in time for the game next week?" Niether the dark haired man nor the woman asked this question. 

The man answered it. " Better keep him off for a while." A twinkle set itself in his eyes. " Gryffindor, then, forfeits to Slytherin?" 

" Severus!" The woman's voice was sharp, and the smile quickly left the man's face. 

" So......does this mean no practice until you're better, Wood?" A boy with firey red hair entered my view, and his eyes glittered as a smile danced on his lips. 

Practice? Wood? I didn't know what to say, but my gaze remained steady and the confusion hopefully didn't show. Judging by the boy's hopeful smile, I could guess the answer he wanted to hear. Should I give it to him? 

The woman turned to the boy, a look of displeasure on her round face. " This is not the time to ask such questions, George." 

I slowly raised a hand, whispered, " Wait." I stiffened when I heard my voice, _my_ voice, not the voice of whoever I had taken. I was supposed to have his voice, not my voice! 

All three heads turned to me, and I took a deep breath, stifled my shock. 

" No practice," I said weakly. 

The boy's face lit up, but the light was quickly blown out as the older man shot him an almost evil look. He backed away slowly. 

" It's a wise choice, Oliver," the man said, and his evil expression changed to something close to relief. 

The woman stood. " You should leave, George. And Severus, thanks for the potion." She moved so she was blocking my view of the boy and man. " He needs rest, now, and by golly, he can't get it if someone's in there chatting about Quidditch nonsense." 

" It's not nonsense! Is it, Wood?" The boy's face peeked over the woman's shoulder. " He's a Quidditch captain! He's a Quidditch freak! If there's anything he wants to hear about, it's Quidditch! Come on, Wood, tell her!" 

I remained silent as the woman forced the red-haired teen away. She sighed heavily once he had left, turned to face me with sympathetic eyes. 

" I imagine there's an eager young woman waiting to see you, Oliver," she said. " Would you like to see her now?" 

A young woman? A mate of this Wood's? " I'll see her." I kept my voice low, tried to imitate the slight accent of the woman. My voice still sounded painfully Elvish, but she obviously didn't find anything wrong for she only nodded and walked out. 

The young woman who entered shortly after had tears filling her chocolate eyes, yet a smile of relief lit up her face. She rushed to me, took a set on the bed I lay on, leaned over to kiss my lips gently. 

" Fifteen minutes, Angelina," the older woman called from the doorway. " He needs to sleep if he's to be well again." 

She nodded, though I doubt she was really listening. Brushing her fingers through my now short hair, she kissed me again, and her tears fell on my face. 

" Angel.....Angelina?" I whispered, hoping that was her name. 

" Yes, Oliver," she answered, kissing me again. Her kisses were sweet, yet this guilt was building inside me, so I never kissed her back. 

I flexed my fingers, found they worked, and slowly tried to raise myself on my elbows. The movement was enough to stop her kissing. 

" Oliver, you shouldn't sit...." she started. 

I shook my head to silence her. " I need your help." I let my volume grow so that I didn't sound as weak as I appeared. 

" Anything." She slowly wiped the tears from her shining eyes. I had to tear my own eyes from her to keep the guilt from growing. 

Gingerly, I sat up, off my elbows. This brought a worried look over Angelina's perfect face, and I tried to calm her with a smile. " I don't want to alarm you, but I do need your help." With a deep breath, I dropped the bad impression of the accent. " I am not as I appear." 

I saw every muscle in her tense, her eyes widen as I let my voice carry, let my Elven voice carry. 

Shifting a little uneasily, I asked, " You love this Oliver?" 

Worry was quickly replaced by the beginnings of shock, but she nodded slowly in answer. 

" Then I need your help. I need you to promise you can keep a secret from everyone." I locked my gaze with hers. " Promise me." 

Shaking, she asked in a low voice," Who.....what are you?" 

I cursed myself. " Promise me you won't tell, and I'll explain everything." 

" Where's Oliver?" Her voice trembled, but she kept my gaze. 

" Help me and we'll save Oliver." 

This brought silence from her. Holding my breath and praying, I reached for her and took her hand. She broke our gaze, glanced down at my fingers holding hers. Her eyes softened when she looked back up at me. " Who are you?" 

A sigh of relief escaped me. " Call me Oliver outside, but while we're here, I'm Legolas." 

" Legolas," she repeated. She again wiped tears from her eyes. " Where's Oliver?" 

My heart tightened at the thought of what might happen to him, of him facing my fate. " It's kind of a long story, Angelina-" 

" Angel," she interupted. " Oliver always calls me Angel." 

" All right, Angel." I swallowed hard, guilt sweeping over me again in a large wave. " To shorten the story, I was attacked. A newly aquired enemy found me and caught me, wanting to spill my blood because I spilled his father's." 

Her eyes widened in shock. 

" I"m an Elf warrior," I added quickly to calm her, though after the words left my mouth I realized how insane they must have sounded to her. " I'll explain later. Anyway, I was attacked by this mutated Elf. He sought revenge, and he meant to kill me, not only make me bleed. I don't know if I would have survived or if his blows would have taken my life, but, as in any such emergency, I had to reach out and become someone else to save myself." 

She was shaking slightly when she asked, " So you took Oliver." 

I nodded. " So here I am, in his body, and he's there, in mine." 

" But you were......you were hurt....weren't you?" Her voice shook now. 

" I was." 

A tear traced her face. " And Oliver's there, in your pain?" 

I tightened my grip on her hand. " I have no intention to bring death to anyone. I surely would have died had I stayed there, but by becoming Oliver and Oliver becoming me, I can save myself." My words sounded selfish in my ears, I don't know how they sounded in hers. " I'm sure my people are working to save my....Oliver's.....life, and they will. I'm sure of it. But right now, I need to live here, with you, in Oliver's place. Only until he heals and we can become ourselves again." 

She nodded slowly, disbelief and trust and horror all mixed in her eyes. My heart ached knowing what I put on her, what my words, only words, must have done to her. 

" Help me?" I asked after a moment of silence. 

She wiped her face free of tears, her free hand squeezed mine. A slow smile spread itself on her lips and she leaned towards me to hug me. Inhaling deeply, she said softly, " You smell just like Oliver." 

Returning the hug, I asked, " So you'll help me?" 

" Yes."   
  


A/N: Haha! Next chapter for those of you who yelled at me to continue. ^_^ Thank you soooo much for the sweet reviews! 


	4. "This Isn't Our Elf Prince, Gimli"

A/N: 100+ reviews. *gapes* Who woulda thought? *teary eyes* Gah, I love you all! *big group hug* 

**REASON FOR LACK OF UPDATES:** lack of writing flow, and I don't want to put anything out there that isn't up to my lowest standards. *cocks a fist* Damn writer's block to hell! (pardon the language -_-) 

Own nothing, will gain nothing from this but tears (thanks again all who have left such wonderful reviews!), and there you have it.   
  


**~Far Deeper Than Skin~**

  
  
  
  


****OLIVER****   


What was there? Was there feeling, anything to be felt? With what seemed a great effort, I slowly opened my eyes. The light above me swirled, my head throbbed. Raising a hand slowly to block the burning rays, I whispered hoarsely, "Turn off the light, Madam Pomphrey." 

"There's no light, my friend," a gruff voice responded, and a rough hand took mine in a firm grip. "It is good, though, to see you awake." 

I closed my eyes again, inhaled deeply. "Where's Madam Pomphrey?" 

" No Pomphrey woman here, mate," the gruff voice answered. 

"This isn't funny, Weasley." It had to be a Weasley, there was no other explanation. Trying to laugh, but ending up with a cough, I tried to say, "Shouldn't you be on the field?" 

The rough hand let mine go. "Field?" A short, uncomfortable pause made me open my eyes. "I think you were hit harder than we thought, Legolas." 

_Legolas__?_

I blinked, tried to sit up when a strong hand pushed me down. 

"You are in no condition to be sitting," the gruff voice continued. 

The white above me danced just before my eyes, swirling. I shut my eyes tight. " Cut the spell, Weasley, it's not funny anymore." 

"Weasley?" The voice was heavy with pain, the hand rested itself on my forehead. "I'm no weasle, Legolas. You don't recognize me?" 

I reached up and removed the hand from my head. "You never know when to quit." I exhaled. "Look, I've got a killer headache. Tell Angel to take over practice." Swallowing, another thought hit me. "And find our reserve Keeper while you're at it. I don't think I'll be able to play next week." 

"I'm getting Elrond," the voice said hurridly. 

Within moments I felt alone. 

I groaned, tried to fall back asleep. Sleep, sleep is what I needed. By the time Fred or George, whichever, returned, if I could be alseep, he'd leave. The lack of Weasleys was my main goal, for who knew what a Weasley could do for a headache? 

Sleep refused to take me in its iron grip this time, though. Shifting and groaning, there was not a position that made me rest. I twisted under the silk blankets, rolled on the matress, put myself in positions that seemed physically impossible, all the while trying to keep my long hair out of my face. 

I froze. Heart stopped still. 

_Long hair?_ I took a strand of hair between two fingertips, stifled a cry of surprise when I found the strand to be blonde. And about shoulder length. 

I rolled onto my back, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. It was only a spell, only a spell of Weasley's. Both of them had pranks that did something like this......sometimes. 

Groaning in frustration, I placed my hands over my ears....._my_ ears? 

I shot up in bed, threw the silk bedspread from my lanky body. 

_I was sleeping in silk sheets?_

The hospital wing had the worst blankets in the world. Thick and itchy.....but these....these were of the finest silk. Too silky to be possible. 

"He didn't recognize me, m'lord," came the gruff voice, from just outside the door. 

Panic seized me, adreniline coursed through my veins. I had to hide, had to get away from the freaky voice and whoever it had brought to the chambers. Yet by the time I had the perfect hiding place picked out, I felt the presence of men in the room. 

"Legolas? You can't be standing! Back in bed, my boy, back in bed!" Slim hands took hold of my shoulders, led me back to the soft matress. "I know you must be anxious to know what happened, but please, wait until you've healed." 

I groaned again, as it seemed the only thing to explain how I felt. This voice was the same voice I had heard during that.....halucination. I knew for sure I was dreaming. 

"Listen! He's making funny noises now!" the gruff voice cried worridly. 

"You do not know the sounds of a confused Elf when you hear them, do you, Gimli?" the melodic voice asked. With a sigh, he said softly to me," You can open your eyes, Legolas. You're awake, it might as well be done." 

It was then I realized I had my eyes closed. 

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the swirling room, trying to dive through the waves of confusion to reality. "Didn't I tell you to stop the joke, Weasley? It's not funny anymore." 

"See, sire? He's called you a weasle, too." 

A concerned face came into focus. Strong cheekbones, pale skin surrounded by a neat tangle of dark brown hair. Penetrating eyes bore into me, a cool hand swept my forehead. 

"I don't think he means the weasle you're thinking of, Dwarf," the man muttered, sitting on the edge of my bed gently. 

I raised a hand in annoyance. "Did you just call your brother a dwarf?" I asked slowly. 

This would have brought chuckles from both twins. The dark-haired man only tightened his expression. 

"My brother?" he asked, glancing away from me. 

"Your brother?" the gruff voice answered with the same confusion. "Who am I to be the brother of Lord Elrond?" 

Lord Elrond.....yes, that was the name of the guy in the dream.... 

"I know you," I murmered. "I was at practice, and then I was in the woods, and you were taking me away on an unstable wooden stretcher. Then Weasley carried me up the steps, and you said not to ask me questions until I was better." I was raving like a drunk, but it all made so much sense! "I said stop the joke, or is there no respect for your Quidditch captain anymore?" I rubbed my throbbing temples. "Was it you two that gave me this headache as well? So you wouldn't have to play next week?" Chuckling slightly at the cleverness of the thought, I told them," You should have waited until closer to the game. I may get better just to spite the both of you." 

The dark-haired man rose from my bed quickly. "This isn't our Elf prince, Gimli." 


End file.
